You Can't Teach An Old Dog New Tricks
by DragonsManticoresAndGiantsOhMy
Summary: AU Setting. The Terminus is not a place for the weak or timid. It's a way of life as much as a destination or location. Two men with a shared past find themselves crossing paths once more in this harsh setting. Their run in turns into reflection on their lives, careers, and futures. Maybe you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but you can give him something to chew on.


**AN: This story takes place in the AU Setting of my Reclamation Series. As such things are not a direct translation from either Halo or Mass Effect because I have merged the two continuities and figured out my own crazy way of interpreting how these conjoined timelines would affect each other and events.**

 **In this fic I want to establish stuff that is going on in the rest of the galaxy away from Shepard's first person view in the Reclamation Series. I also wanted to introduce to fun characters in Zaeed Massani and Avery Johnson. Although for fans of either character, be warned. I am aiming to make them more nuanced and fleshed out. Zaeed will be a bit more of an unsavory and self serving bigot that you love to hate and hate to love. Johnson will be the consummate professional warrior in service to humanity with a bit too many miles on him. Both will be facing down the reality of the lives they have created for themselves and how that parlays into their roles later on during the Reclamation Series.**

 **As a side note, it is really damn difficult to get the dialogue right for either of these characters. They both often inject a lot of colorful language, metaphors, and insults into a single sentence. Which is why I suppose they're such awesome characters to begin with. Hats off to Bioware and Bungie for that.**

* * *

 **Asakku District, New Tyne, Venezia, Qab System, Nemean Abyss Cluster; March 14, 2571 [Standardized Terran Calendar]; 0348 [Local Time, Terran Standard]**

The drizzle of the early evening had given way to a damp city of New Tyne under a clear and cool night sky. Adorned in well worn terminus assault armor, a tall and athletic man stood in the shadows just off the main avenue watching the traffic and passerby dispassionately with hooded brown eyes. It wasn't anything special, even at this time of night. Terrestrial vehicles lumbering up and down the street. Pedestrians of various races walking wherever the hell they wanted. Skycars buzzing by overhead dangerously low. Businesses running obnoxious holos and vids vying for your attention and credits.

An Elkoss Combine advertisement illuminated him and the rest of the street in a lurid green hue. Taking a drag off his cigar and squinting, he could almost imagine he was back home in the Chicago district of the Great Lakes Metro Area.

Unfortunately, the thing about places like this was that you never got used to the smell.

Sure, Master Sergeant Avery Johnson had difficulty being around so many jiralhanae and kig-yar, too. What veteran of Harvest wouldn't? But these xenos were a different breed than their dead god worshiping brethren. They were more civilized.

Or less civilized. He wasn't too concerned with the specifics regarding this. A xeno is a xeno.

What concerned him was the god awful stink. Like someone ground up varren droppings, fed that to a pack of retarded vorcha with scale itch and then let them shit everywhere.

New Tyne, like all of Venezia, had changed hands and names dozens of times since it's founding over four hundred years ago by asari colonists. Pretty much par for course out here in the Terminus. Whatever warlord or pirate king that had power at the time would claim the city as their own until they realized it wasn't worth the trouble. Running a colony was a completely different skill set than what the usual shoot the other bastard before he shoots you that most 'successful' bastards here in the Terminus excelled in.

Currently the Innies that had left Alliance space in the exodus following the Harvest Campaign were the power here. More specifically, the United Rebel Front. Used their numbers to move in like school yard bullies and had held their own for just over a decade. Mostly through a little luck and an unholy marriage between the various human insurrectionist groups that fled out here to the Terminus. The New Colonial Alliance. How's that for irony? Innies bitched and complained about freedom from constricting governments only to wind up forming their own out here.

He'd be slightly impressed if amidst this new found appreciation for bureaucracy the URFers had managed to show some level of competence in managing the city, but they were just as inept as everyone else before them. New Tyne was still a shithole and it smelled like it.

Just how hard was it for these inbred Innie fucktards to install a VI and buy some automatics to handle the sanitation?

Still, it was a shithole with a breathable atmosphere. He'd brave the smell of the unwashed terminus masses if it meant he finally got to light up a Sweet Williams. A week and some change of no smoking aboard a transport had left him more than a little antsy.

Who was he kidding? It was that greenhorn officer, Captain Beckett, leading this operation that was doing his best to work the last few good nerves that his former mother in law hadn't worn out. Fresh out of ICT with an N7 designation and thought that made him the god almighty's gift to badassery. Trouble was the young buck had yet to get rid of that newly fabricated aroma wafting from his direction.

Everyone he knew was a bit wet behind the ears, but you respected the N7. You earned that by being one tough son or daughter of a bitch. But it would seem that despite the accolades he had attained the Captain wasn't comfortable in his own skin. Felt he had something to prove and made damn sure to let everyone know who was in charge.

He had seen his type before. It was all bravado and rigid leadership to compensate for the fact he was more nervous than a salarian in a room full of krogan. In a way he pitied the kid. Wasn't easy being placed in charge for the first time and sent out into the stars to get a job this important done. Then again, SpecWar was not for the faint of heart.

Avery flicked some ashes from the tip of his cigar and inhaled again, thinking about how that was precisely why he had never sought a leadership position.

Yeah, leading a fire team or squad was no big deal. Point the boomstick at the enemy and don't hesitate. Simple enough that they could teach those basics to the little kids in UCMT that were still homesick for mom's cooking. But being the one to make the call for the big decisions? Have your name on the dotted line back at Arcturus? That shit required as much ego and nerves of steel as did a set of big brass ones.

He was a Marine through and through. He didn't want to deal with the daily hapticwork or political kissing ass for promotions. The little games that he saw so many officers and senior NCOs get wrapped up in. He belonged in the field. It's where he felt he belonged. It's where he felt alive.

Just him, his rifle, and some real ass kickers and heart breakers on his six.

And where had that wise philosophy in life gotten him? Baby sitting a SpecWar fire team on a Terminus run to track down some Innie piece of shit. Malcolm Ewers. Of the '56 Mazu Orbital Station Massacre fame. He and twelve of his URF buddies smuggled some explosives and converted M90 shotguns aboard a transport headed to Shanxi. When they docked they went on a murdering spree at the orbital station before detonating the explosives inside the freighter.

Three hundred and eighty four dead. Most from vacuum exposure when the observation windows at the passenger waiting zones on decks four through six blew out.

Malcolm managed to escape in the chaos and evaded all attempts to track him down. Not to hard to figure out where he had disappeared to, but trying to find a piece of shit, good for nothing murderer in the Terminus was like trying to find some horny and drunk idiot dancing like a fucking fool at a nightclub. You needed to be more specific unless you enjoyed wasting your time.

Avery had some experience in manhunts out in the Terminus. More than most, which is why he was here. But they all knew this was unnecessary bullshit. This team was elite and knew what they were doing. They didn't need anyone holding their hands on this, but with the Council's concerted efforts to colonize the Terminus, again, SpecWar and ONI were not taking chances.

So he got the honor of applying his years of service as one of humanity's finest by being a tour guide and babysitter. What a fucking honor. Really. He'd blush if all the blood in his body wasn't being fed into his raging hard on at the thought of being a fucking chaperone for grown men and women. Trained killers that didn't need a leash.

He was too old for this shit. He'd be turning forty five this December. Twenty seven years in service of humanity and what did he really have to show for it? One marriage. One divorce.

Those enchanting green eyes crept into his mind and he sighed around the cigar clenched between his teeth. He'd screwed that pooch royally. Finest woman he ever had the honor of sharing a bunkspace with and he fucked that up in a way that insured it wasn't pleasant for either of them.

Well, she played her part in the destruction, but he knew she was right in the end.

They had rushed into marriage after their tumultuous and incendiary time together on Harvest. Because isn't that what the ladies liked? Invasions, explosions, and the threat of death around every corner? Who said romance was dead?

Bu once the novelty of spending time together whenever their schedules matched up wore off they were left with some serious issues. Namely that they had very different personalities and goals.

Jilan wanted him to look into pursuing a career path outside of SpecWar. Always telling him that special forces was a young man's game. He needed a long term game plan for what to do once he wasn't field ready anymore.

He had dismissed her advice, claiming that the average human didn't leave their prime until they hit their sixties. He was still as strong and healthy as he had been as a young buck of eighteen. Hell, stronger. He didn't need to worry about a desk job pushing haptics around for decades.

Well, Jilan wasn't hearing that shit. She gave him an ultimatum to look into attending advanced administration courses or they would have to rethink this marriage. He blew her and her threats off. She served him with the divorce files from halfway across the galaxy.

Reality was having a field day slapping his pride around now that he was well past the halfway point for his prime and standing around in an alcove on Venezia at a time any sensible person should be laid out in their bunk.

God damn that woman. She was right. He couldn't keep doing this forever.

Closing his eyes, he wished he could go back to that simpler time. Make things right. Never let her go.

He chuckled at the thought of those being 'simpler' times. Running around Harvest with her, Byrne, Anderson, and Ponder, god rest that brave bastard's soul, while the Covenant began their invasion wasn't exactly the good old days.

Shaking his head and taking another pull off his cigar he reminded himself that it was easy to get trapped in the comforting depression of second guessing yourself. Life was full of regrets, and his time spent in SpecWar only made it worse.

Thinking of the positives, at least had gotten the sixty kilo monkey called his mother in law off his back. That had to count for something. Still swore that woman could manage to drive the pope into becoming a suicidal alcoholic. It's a miracle Jilan turned out even halfway sane.

Actually, in retrospect that explained her perfectly.

His trip down memory lane took a turn to his final training mission during ICT Phase Six. He and Byrne had been attached to a company of Army troopers raiding bomb making facilities around Scott on Terra Nova. They had spotted a runner and gave chase before cornering the woman at a diner during lunchtime.

She had grabbed a hostage, a small boy, and was attempting to negotiate. Byrne entered and tried to talk her down in the hopes she would give up or move into a position where Avery could take the shot. But she never did. The child was always in the way. Eventually the boy's father tried to play hero and the woman decided that killing herself along with everyone else in the diner was the preferable option.

Thirty eight civilians dead. Fourteen wounded. Byrne survived with scarring, but nothing compared to the emotional scars he carried around to this day. Even after Harvest he swore he would never forgive Avery for that moment of hesitation.

SpecWar and ONI had been of a different opinion. They agreed that Avery had not been at fault for the deaths. Sometimes he agreed with Byrne's assessment over the official report.

And in some of his darkest moments, Avery would wonder if he had taken the shot, knowing the child would probably die, would that have been better? All those people saved in exchange for a child that was doomed to die no matter what?

See it was shit like this that made him avoid being in charge. There was rarely ever any good solutions. Or at least solutions without consequences.

"Beckett wants us on the move. Now."

Avery glanced off to his right at Gerigis, a tall and tan clean cut N5 operator clad in the same terminus style armor as the rest of the team in order to blend in with their surroundings. Glancing down at the chronometer on his omnitool, Avery saw they still had plenty of time before the op was to go live. "What's he got a stick up his ass about this time?"

Gerigis shrugged, stowing the Tsunami assault rifle in his hands over his shoulder and onto the magnetic strips along the back of his armor. "Situation's changed. Something's going down."

Avery sighed and ground out the cigar against the prefabricated wall. The two men left their hiding spot and joined the groups of drunks and party revelers walking along the streets at this time of night. Quickly jogging across the street they came to the parking spot of the old beat up batarian made Rimu terrestrial all terrain vehicle they were 'loaned' from the ONI handler on the planet. Gerigis hopped behind the wheel and started the truck up, quickly merging into traffic and heading towards their destination. Hafan Tower.

The plan was simple. Ewers was something of a faded hero to the URF. He had been hotly protected in the years following the massacre, but as of late he'd fallen out of favor. That was the beauty of Innies. Their loyalty changed with the wind. They fought each other as much as they fought everyone else. Bunch of idealistic shit for brains children throwing tantrums and threatening to take the ball home because they couldn't have their way.

So now Ewers was only being defended by his sister's two sons at night, Cameron and Wayne. Captain Beckett and the other three members of the team would be driven to the destination in a skycar provided by the handler. They would disembark at the skypad on the twelfth floor, move on the target's residence in unit 1240, neutralize the nephews, and grab Ewers. Avery and Gerigis would enter the subterranean parking and maintenance facility underneath the tower to secure the egress. Beckett and the team would take the elevator or stairs down to the sublevel with Ewers in tow. If things went smoothly, they would all be aboard a privately operated transport bound for Illium within the hour.

But since the gun had been jumped, that meant that things were going far from smoothly.

Curious as to what the fuss was about, Avery tapped his earpiece and established comms with Captain Beckett, "Rapier One, Rapier Six. What is the situation?"

He waited for several tense moments as Gerigis did his best to weave his way through the late night traffic. Finally Beckett's voice crackled over the comms, "Rapier Six, Rapier One. Someone showed up armed for war. We're not sure if they've been tipped off or want him dead."

Avery glanced at Gerigis with narrowed eyes, who glanced back just as intrigued. Competition? Ewers did have a long established bounty on his head. Maybe the URF knew they were here and were trying to snatch him up for the reward? Keying his comms again he sought clarification, "Rapier One, Rapier Six. Any details on the new targets?"

This time the reply was quick, but equally baffling as before. "Rapier Six, Rapier One. Target. Singular. One likely human male. Forced entry from a window on the south side of building. Customized Terminus Raider armor. Gold and black. Modified M5 Harrier. M3 Predator. M27 Scimitar."

Okay, now Avery was really confused. One guy? This had to be an assassination. Not even god himself was crazy enough to think he could slug it out all alone against the entire URFer militia.

They pulled into the entrance for the facility and went down the ramp into the dimly lit parking structure. The loud hum of the building's condensers made it impossible to hear anything. Avery put on the helmet for his Terminus Assault armor and removed his M15 Vindicator from his back. If they had been tipped off there might be other surprises awaiting them.

"Rapier six, Rapier One. Be advised that intel assets are reporting shots fired and explosions in the apartment. Communications between URF militia dispatch and field units being jammed. We have ten minutes at best."

Gerigis slowly prowled through the aisles of parked vehicles until he neared the elevator bank.

The vehicle came to a sudden halt as both men exited the vehicle with weapons drawn.

Their mystery man was here, loading a bloodied and dazed Ewers into the trunk of a small red Kaira sedan. Upon seeing the two human special forces soldiers the man in the black and gold armor ducked behind the vehicle and produced his own weapon.

Avery cursed his luck. What should have been a standard smash and grab op just turned into a standoff with some lunatic in an underground parking lot in the middle of the night.

It wouldn't be long before the URF militia that passed for a police force arrived. Ewers might not be their favorite right about now, but they definitely wouldn't take kindly to the UNSC showing up to collect him.

They'd be lucky to get off the planet with all their toes and fingers once this hornet's nest got kicked.

Hoping for the best, Avery spoke through his helmet's voice module, his voice amplified over the hum of the condensers. "Now look here, friend. I'm going to make this simple enough that you can understand this with a Terminus education. No one here has to wind up with a slug in their ass tonight. Mister piece of shit terrorist bleeding all over your trunk is a friend of ours that we want to introduce to a holding cell and about three hundred or so charges of murder. I don't know what you think you're doing and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. Hand him over and walk away. Don't and you'll be lucky to see whatever the fuck passes for hospital on this planet. Simple as that."

Avery was vaguely aware of Gerigis notifying Beckett of the location of Ewers and the mystery man. Their replies informed the two of them that the other group was headed to the elevators on the twelfth floor now and would be arriving shortly. Mister One Man Army had maybe two minutes, tops, before the hammer would get dropped.

Unfortunately, every second being wasted meant that hammer might drop on this operation as well.

After a beat of silence Avery urged an answer from the mystery man, "Well? You can't speak or what?"

A raspy voice, human and thick in accent, replied, "I can, you fucking plonker. Just didn't think that bullshit you said merited a response unless it was to shoot at you to shut your fucking gob."

Frowning to himself, Avery wondered why that voice sounded familiar. When a name and face only a blind krogan mother could love popped into his mind to match that voice he muttered under his breath, but still loud and clear over his activated voice module, "Well this is fucking perfect."

* * *

 **Asakku District, New Tyne, Venezia, Qab System, Nemean Abyss Cluster; March 14, 2571 [Standardized Terran Calendar]; 0323 [Local Time, Terran Standard]**

Zaeed Massani was many things.

Galaxy class alcoholic scoundrel? Check.

All around general surly asshole? Absolutely.

Natural born son of a bitch with a lack of interpersonal skills? Even his mother, if she were alive, would agree. On both counts.

Willing to kill someone for a cold beer and a couple of credits? You had him at cold beer.

One of the best ever to do what he did? You better fucking believe it.

Scared of heights? …. possibly.

Buffeted by the gusts of wind as he glanced over the ledge of the roof of the Hafan Tower, Zaeed once again contemplated just what he was thinking with this plan. He could have just barged in through the front door like any other sensible person. Sensible being relative here. Most people were not the type to storm an apartment in the middle of the night to capture a known terrorist on a lark.

Lucky for him, because if they were then Zaeed Massani would be out of a job.

But credits were credits, and this mark had quite a hefty price tag associated with it. Malcolm Ewers. He remembered the name. Some URFer shitbag that helped kill all those people on Shanxi about twenty years ago. Shame about what happened there. Zaeed never quite understood what drove Innies to kill people. Freedom? Get fucking real. No one was every truly free. Everyone needed to eat so everyone needed to work. There was no magical fucking way in the galaxy to be free of anything. And if there was, you can bet your last credit that once it was discovered someone would charge others a monthly fee for the honor of having that piece of mind.

At least other people were more honest in their pursuits. The Council races? They wanted to hold onto their power. The Systems Alliance and UNSC? They wanted a slice of that power. Batarians? They wanted to corner the market on everything outside of Council space. Krogans? They just loved to fight.

Hell, even Zaeed himself was no exception. He liked to drink, smoke, and fuck. He tracked down dipshits and took on odd mercenary jobs so he could pay to drink, smoke, and fuck.

It was a simple fucking equation, really.

But Innies? They might as well be as delusional as fucking Covenant. No rhyme or reason. Just ass backwards priorities. Freedom. Purity. Loyalty. Dogma. Where was the credits in that? Psychopaths and morons, the lot of them.

Then again, before Zaeed began throwing around aspersions on others he should perhaps have thought his current situation through a bit better. If he had taken the time to learn how to hack security systems a bit better then he wouldn't be on top of a twenty story building right now. But he had never bothered because that had been Vido's job.

Behind the visor of his helmet, Zaeed's mismatched blue eyes narrowed. One ice, the other electric. The ice colored one had been a parting gift from Vido.

Vido Santiago had been nothing less than a brother to Zaeed. They served in the same SpecWar unit during the final months of the Insurrection War and again throughout the Harvest Campaign. They had fought side by side through impossible odds. Bled together. Laughed together. Cried together. If it wasn't for Zaeed, Vido would have been skewered by a Sangheili plasma dagger in Gladsheim.

When their enlistments ended after Harvest they saw a tremendous opportunity. They had never been model ODSTs. They sold weapons and gear, claiming it was lost or damaged in battle. Looted the the dead for anything they could get their hands on. Bank credit information. Passwords to accounts.

Hell, on one occasion, Zaeed and Vido had managed to find out some dead Army officer had a wife on Benning and an apartment on Tiptree where he let his mistress stay. Through some nifty haptic work courtesy of an unscrupulous volus banker they managed to get the title of the apartment transferred to Zaeed. When they paid the mistress a visit to inform her of the new ownership the sexy little minx had let them tag team her the entire week they were on Tiptree. After that, Vido and Zaeed agreed to honor her agreement with the previous owner provided she kept up her end of the bargain.

And then to top it all off, the wife of the dead officer contacted Zaeed a few months later to inform him she and her lawyer had discovered her husband's trail of indiscretions. She would overlook Zaeed's unethical acquisition of the apartment on the condition he sell it and split the profits with her. The mistress would get tossed out on her nice firm and round ass.

Absolutely ruthless. Zaeed had to give it to that woman. So he did. Repeatedly. Best business deal he'd ever been a part of. He wasn't even that narked to have lost out on half of the credits for the apartment once she went to work on him. And damn if that poor dead bloke didn't have a fine taste in women. Real fit and filthy.

Ah, the good old days. When they went into business for themselves out in the Terminus. Guns for hire. Massani and Santiago to get the job done. Need something retrieved by force or someone to disappear? No questions. No morals. No problems.

Their reputations got so large that people would come to them looking for work. At first they had dismissed the plonkers. They weren't going to share their profits with some assholes who couldn't carry their own weight. But when the contracts for bigger and grander jobs started coming in the two of them saw the value in having disposable meat shields carrying extra guns.

Drinking away the pain of bumps and bruises in a bar on a space station above Tortuga after one particularly challenging contract left Vido and Zaeed with no choice but to accept that they had to incorporate their little operation. That lead to a drunken discussion on the name of their still fictional mercenary outfit. And after about an hour they had exhausted the minimal collective artistic creativity the two possessed and only come up with a handful of stupid potential names. Really fucking stupid potential names.

It was at that point that Vido had glanced out the observation window of the bar in inebriated desperation and said the first thing his mind thought of. Blue Sun. Zaeed took a glance out the window at the bright blue star Libertatia and figured it was simple enough.

Blue Suns it would be and for a short time they became the toast and scourge of the galaxy. They quickly established themselves alongside the top mercenary outfits anywhere. Maybe all that attention might have been where their downfall started. Every intelligence agency, information broker, military special forces unit, rival big name security company, or bastard they had crossed wanted to know more about them.

Overnight their contracts in legal parts of space disappeared as they were slandered with allegations of improper conduct. Then those same legit corporations became squeamish about using them to conduct their more illicit and clandestine activities in the Terminus. Thought that they were too much of a risk if investors and governments back in Council space knew they were hiring undesirables to do questionable things.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? This was the fucking Terminus. Did they think the everyone out here was in the business of shitting out rainbow colored kittens for orphans or something? It was mercenary work. They were paid killers and heavies, not some pansy fucking white collar agency. The greatest irony is that those same mealy mouthed boot lickers were happy to have their investments and projects earn them enough credits to live their conveniently comfortable lives provided they didn't have to know who slaved and died to make it happen.

Once those lean times started the problems arose. Squabbling over costs and expenditures. To Zaeed it was like being married to a miserly bitch without the convenience of at least getting a blowjob once a year for his birthday.

Then one of their contacts from their days of smuggling UNSC arms and equipment, Bernard Ledgers, contacted them about a potential business opportunity. Some big shot batarian he spent time in a Council jail cell with named Solem Dal'Serah wanted to buy out the merc group and keep them on as operations and missions specialists. With Solem bringing in an influx of credits, assets, and contacts within the Hegemony the Blue Suns would be back on top with an even wider range of clients. The deal was exactly was they needed.

Which is why Zaeed smelled the bullshit from a light year away. A couple of credits directed to an independent information merchant on Illium with ties to the Shadowbroker let Zaeed know that his initial hunch had been correct.

Solem Dal'Serah was former SIU and up to all four of his eyes in slave trade where he made his fortune. He was even rumored to be part of the almost mythical Batarian External Forces, the clandestine Hegemony run operation network of former military soldiers and intelligence agents that worked the angles in the Terminus for their masters back on Khar'shan.

There was no fucking way Zaeed was about to become the tool of bureaucrats again. He'd had enough of that shit with the Systems Alliance and UNSC, being chewed up and spit out after nearly giving his life several times over on Harvest without so much as a pat on the back and an 'atta boy'.

That's how Zaeed relearned the painful lesson that there was no such thing as loyalty or freedom. There was only needs to be filled and people willing to pay credits for it. And the Hegemony had a need for a relatively legit front for their SIU and BEF forcces and were willing to pay the Blue Suns to get it.

It had been here on Venezia in '64 when he met up with Vido to discuss what he had found out. Not too far outside of New Tyne in a small town near the hydro electric plant and on a night just like this. A few clouds leftover from a rainshower earlier that evening. A little cool but not unbearable.

He thought Vido would hear him out. Listen to his brother in all but blood.

He thought wrong. Vido wasn't alone. Waiting with him were a couple of the more trusted mercs from the unit. That should have been Zaeed's tipoff.

They beat him fucking senseless when his guard was down. Hammered him like a rivet in cheap armor plating. Kept going on and on about fucking them over when there were good credits on the table. That Zaeed had gone soft. Too much of a punk to get his hands dirty with slavers.

And then Vido had stood over him, calm as anything he'd ever seen from the man before, and shot him in the face. No words. No hesitation. Simple as that. Everything they had been through together meant nothing to him because it was nothing. It was just good times turned into good memories. Nothing tangible there to influence the present. Only needs and credits.

They left him for dead and Zaeed, a bloody mess clinging to life by the barest of threads, found his own needs as he clawed and fought his way towards the town for help.

When Zaeed woke up it was in a URF militia hospital in New Tyne. The slug had fortunately bounced off his skull instead of penetrating his brain. Unfortunately, it had shredded through his right eye, leaving a bloody mess. The doctors there weren't the best, but they were a sight better than most of the places that dared call themselves hospitals across the Terminus. Rather than having cloned replacements for the tissue lost or the wound treated to prevent scarring, Zaeed opted to have a cybernetic implant instead and be done with it.

It made for a gruesome and frightening visage, but he was fine with that. Others might see a scarred warrior that had seen his share of depravity, or maybe someone who had been injured and didn't have credits at the time to pay for adequate medical care. He really didn't fucking care. What Zaeed saw in his own reflection was the loss of a part of himself that he could never get back. That he never wanted back.

But if he ever caught up with Vido Santiago again, he was going to repay him the favor with interest. Years of boiling and seething interest. Then he would kill him, just to remind the stupid fuck their first rule back when they started.

Always finish the job. Never leave it half done.

Speaking of finishing a job, his earpieces chirped a notification of an incoming message on his omnitool. He tap the device on his wrist and the message was displayed on the HUD across his visor.

[\ Cameron D Bosma [A] NTyne Venezia [to] Hugibert V Korzybski [A] NTyne Venezia \\]

[\ You know it, sexy. I'll be there in a few. \\]

Zaeed snorted and used his omnitool to type out a reply.

[\ Hugibert V Korzybski [A] NTyne Venezia [to] Cameron D Bosma [A] NTyne Venezia \\]

[\ I can't wait. But we need to make this quick. I have to get to work by seven. I can't be late this time! Lol! \\]

It had almost been too good to be true when he had heard that Malcolm Ewers had resurfaced on Trident for the funeral of one of his comrades from the Insurrection War. A little investigative work, which mostly meant Zaeed paid intelligence brokers to do the work for him, tracked Ewers from the funeral back to Venezia. After that he knew he was on the clock. ONI and MI Squared would be all over this like like a quarian on a recycling center. It was only a matter of days.

He had arrived on Venezia yesterday morning and did some further digging around but came up with nothing. Either no one knew where Ewers was holed up at or they were refusing to talk. Zaeed figured it was out of misguided loyalty to their war hero or fear of reprisal from the URF militias if they ever found out they were a snitch.

But then Zaeed had a stroke of brilliance and looked up Malcolm's sister. Some cunt named Kathleen. She had been arrested following Malcolm's little stunt on Shanxi and held for five years without charges as an accomplice to the terrorist plot. An asari amnesty group that specialized in civil rights violations managed to get her released back in '61. She and her family high tailed it out of Council space before the asari won her a settlement for wrongful imprisonment like two or three years ago.

A couple of calls to an asari bird he knew that worked for that group got him the forwarding address and bank account that the organization deposited her settlement into. From there he tracked her down to the Usbar district of New Tyne. One night of watching her and her family lead to trailing the eldest sons who left with weapons late in the evening. And that had lead to Malcolm Ewers at the Hafan Tower.

After that, it was easier to pry some information out about the nephews and the building's blueprints. Specifically that the building had seen so many unregulated retrofits, repairs and remodelings over nearly two centuries of existence that the blueprints were next to worthless. He had better luck with the nephews, finding out they guarded their uncle at night because he'd fallen out of favor with the current crop of URFer leadership.

It wasn't much to go by for an op, but he'd made do with less before.

Then he struck gold. One of the nephews, Cameron, had a boyfriend that worked at the spaceport as a technician. Their conflicting schedules made it difficult for the lovers to spend time together so Cameron was fond of frequently bailing out in the early morning hours to get in some fuck face time with his boyfriend before he headed off to work.

Some more credits spent with a reputable hacker in New Tyne and Zaeed had cloned the boyfriend's omni address complete with full access to all accounts. A little light reading this afternoon had churned his stomach at how sickeningly sweet the two were but it gave him enough information to put his plan in motion.

Zaeed then went out and purchased some shit clunker off grid sedan that someone was practically giving away. Given that the vehicle was off the grid and in relatively good shape clued Zaeed in that he might not be the first person to purchase it in order to commit a crime. He made his way back to the room he had rented and prepared his gear before getting in a quick nap for the evening.

At about midnight he made his way to Hafan Tower, leaving the sedan in the garage and making his way to the roof. Finding a secluded hiding spot near the skypad he remotely activated the cloned address, taking the boyfriend's omnitool offline while he slept, and staked out the unit using a drone to fly by the windows periodically. Judging by their past history, Cameron would typically wake up his lover by three in the morning with bored messages. After an hour or so of exchanging messages and flirting, Cameron would wind up leaving sometime around four for a rendezvous.

So Zaeed had the unenviable task of mimicking their really tasteless banter for the better part of an hour before finally suggesting that Cameron 'come over' about five minutes ago. The last exchange meant the operation was set to go.

Zaeed watched through his HUD as the drone relayed a live stream of Cameron strutting to a skycar parked at the twelfth floor skypad like the eager little young buck he was. He couldn't blame the guy. Everyone liked getting their dick wet or their bean flicked. But some people liked earning credits just a bit more.

As the skycar shot off into the night, Zaeed moved the drone into place and began his countdown.

One...

He readied his pistol and a flashbang grenade as he knelt at the ledge.

Two...

The drone reached it's destination and hovered in front of the window he had chosen as his entrance. He tossed his line off the side of the roof and prepared to lean out.

Three...

Zaeed kicked off the ledge and away from the building, letting his weight aid in the rapid descent. The drone fired a single shot at the window designed to crack the reinforced and sturdy defense glass just before Zaeed activated the rappel system's eezo assisted lightening mechanism to bring him to a perfect stop with barely a jolt. The stop swung him back towards the building as he brought his knees into his chest, the reinforced exoskeleton built into his armor coiled and ready to spring. When his feet made contact he unleashed the power of the exoskeleton with both legs kicking forward. Combined with the power behind his swing the armored plates on the bottom of his feet hit with enough force to shatter a jiralhanae's knees. More than enough to punch through the compromised defense glass as he entered the unit feet first.

Not quite clearing the table in front of the window, he landed awkwardly in a heap atop shards of broken defense glass and a few knocked over holos. The drone followed in behind him more gracefully, enacting it's full spectrum scanning mode to give Zaeed a clearer picture of the unit.

Grumbling about never being much of a gymnast, Zaeed tossed the flashbang grenade down an adjacent hall where he heard the remaining nephew, Wayne, coming to investigate the noise. The grenade bounced high off the outer wall and ricocheted down the hallway, much to Wayne's surprise. "What the fuck?"

That's about all Zaeed would be hearing from him as the flashbang activated, sending out a loud bang and high pitched squeal while it strobed a blinding flash of light several times per second. The drone fell with a lifeless thud, taken offline by the flashbang's low yield EMP blast, but not before it relayed the relevant info on it's scans.

Zaeed's own senses, weapons, and armor system were relatively untouched. His visor polarized to spare his eyes the flashes of light and audio suite dampened the surrounding sounds. The only real problem were the motion tracker and some other minor sensory suites that shut down preemptively to avoid damage from the EMP, but they were currently rebooting.

It damn well better be, considering the amount of credits he'd invested in the upgrades.

Sitting up and stowing his pistol, he reached for his shotgun and scrambled for the edge of the hallway. Leaning against the wall, he brought up the updated schematics overlaid with the data the drone had acquired before being taken offline.

He was in what he had guessed was an entertainment room and this hallway went on for about four meters past a restroom and kitchen. Opposite him there was another hallway that lead to several bedrooms, including the master bedroom where Ewers was.

Leaning out with his shotgun, Zaeed eyed the the struggling nephew Wayne, who was kneeling at the far end of the hallway near the kitchen and clutching his ears. A kassa locust lay a meter away, dropped and forgotten as Wayne's senses were assaulted by the flashbang.

This is the only real defense? Pitiful.

Two quick successive blasts from the scimitar to Wayne's sternum ripped him open like a starving varren. The walls and floor of the hallway were painted red with his blood and bits of bone, including a fragment that smacked into Zaeed's visor and left a bloody smear as it bounced off.

Spinning on his heel Zaeed marched towards the the opposite hallway, shotgun raised and at the ready. Ewers was there. His observations all night and the drone's scan confirmed it.

When he reached the door to the master bedroom he was surprised to see that it was reinforced. Not just the door, but the entire frame. This was something vacuum rated. Glancing over his shoulders quickly he noted the other two bedrooms on either side of the hall way had standard residential automatic doors.

Which means this one was put in place specifically to defend Ewers. Son of a bitch was hiding behind a god damn starship grade door.

Zaeed cursed his luck and failure to properly prepare. He didn't bring anything to blast or cut through material like this. He was pretty sure he could rig something, but that would take time and that was the one thing he did not have.

He brought up the schematics and drone's scans again, searching for some sort of crawlspace above or below the room. Then he saw it. The master bedroom had a private restroom and walk in closet to either side. They both shared common walls with the two other bedrooms on either side of the hallway.

These plonkers might have thought they were smart installing this door, but did they reinforce the walls between the bedrooms? Probably not.

Rushing into the bedroom on the right, he brought up his omnitool and performed quick scan of the wall before grinning sadistically. Standard construction. He could practically punch his way through.

But there was no time for that sort of fancy theatrics. Grabbing a shaped charge from his utility belt, he slapped it on the wall and tumbled over the bed to get cover.

The room shook as plaster and dust filled the air from the localized explosion.

Jumping up and bounding over the bed Zaeed stormed through the impromptu opening and into the walk in closet, his low vision sensors providing him with enough of a picture to see where he was going.

Ewers lay dazed on the carpeted floor, dressed in a bathrobe and clutching a turian carnifex pistol. He struggled to sit up, coughing as he breathed in the fine layer of plaster still in the air that also coated his eyes, rendering partly blind.

Keep his weapon trained on him, Zaeed calmly strolled forward until he could deliver a swift kick to Ewer's chin. Ewer's fell back with a groan, clutching his chin, his lips and teeth coated red from blood. Zaeed kicked away the carnifex from the still dazed Ewers and produced an autoinjector. Placing his right knee on Ewer's chest and causing the man to gasp painfully, he knelt down and scanned him, just to verify that this was his quarry. Upon confirmation, he jabbed the autoinjecter into Ewer's neck.

The cocktail was a human sedative. Powerful enough that Ewers wouldn't be waking up for several hours. Or at least that's what he figured. What did he know? He wasn't a doctor.

Stowing his shotgun and hefting the man's comatose weight onto his left shoulder, Zaeed grunted in frustration. Ewers was a chunky little fuck. Been living the good life a little too much out here in the Terminus.

After securing his quarry, Zaeed turned right back around, marching through the hole in the wall, and making for the front door. He stopped to pick up his fried drone off the floor, figuring it was probably cheaper to repair than purchase another, and carefully made his way to the gory remains of Wayne. Kneeling down, Zaeed grabbed the locust and the man's omnitool. Both could prove useful later, or at the very least earn Zaeed a few extra credits. Waste not, want not, as his bitch of a mother had been fond of saying.

It was usually her way of justifying drinking a beer first thing in the morning because she had left it half finished the night before when she blacked out.

Standing up proved to be difficult with Ewer's added weight and the slickness of the floor in the hallway from Wayne's blood. Zaeed steadied himself with one hand on the wall, grumbling about his luck and Ewer's fat ass. Slipping and falling with this overweight bastard on top of him because he walked through a puddle of blood would just be the highlight of this operation.

Exiting the unit he saw that there were no witnesses in the apartment hallway. Good. Meant that either no one heard anything, which was very unlikely, or that they were too terrified to poke their heads outside.

Either way, he needed to leave as soon as possible before the URFer militia showed up.

Walking down the hallway covered in blood, plaster, and carrying a disheveled older man in a bathrobe, Zaeed reached the freighter elevator and keyed the request interface. As the seconds ticked by Zaeed grew more and more nervous, tapping his fingers alongside the grip of the predator pistol at his hip.

When the elevator arrived, Zaeed stepped back, pistol drawn just in case. Seeing an empty car, he sighed and stepped in, punching in the haptic keys for the subbasement parking facility.

As the doors closed and the car descended, Zaeed shrugged Ewer's dead weight off his shoulder, letting the unconscious man fall to the floor in a heap. When he didn't move or flinch, Zaeed raised his one good eyebrow and toed the man experimentally. "Don't you go and die on me now, you jackass."

Looking up at the slow countdown of floors, Zaeed decided to carry on his one sided conversation, "You're gonna bring me in quite a bit of credits, y'know that?" Snorting he glanced down at Ewer once again and smiled behind his visor, "Bit of good karma, too. If I actually gave a flying fuck about that in the first place. Plenty of people that want to get their hands on you for what you did. Can't say I envy you, brother. But, it's just business. No hard feelings, right?"

Zaeed chuckled heartily at his own wit. Raising the pistol in his right hand in mock salute, he spoke to Ewer's around a wide grin, "I'll be sure to raise a drink in your memory, motherfucker."

Seeing that the car had nearly reached the parking facility, Zaeed edged up against the wall and kneeled, pistol raised. He was all business again.

The doors opened to the loud hum of the condensers and the dimly lit rows of vehicles. Nothing.

He eased his way out the doors, scanning his surroundings. Still nothing.

Well it seems his luck might be looking up for a change.

Turning around, Zaeed grabbed Ewers by the collar and dragged him towards the small and banged up Kaira Sedan. Just as he was loading the man into the trunk Zaeed paused, hearing the sound of a fuel cell engine and squealing tires on the worn cement of the parking facility.

So someone was going to show up.

A Rimu SUV pulled out from behind a row of cars and sped towards him and the elevator bank. Quickly cataloging a driver and one passenger in the vehicle, Zaeed unceremoniously dropped Ewers in the trunk and dived behind the Kaira. Pulling out his trusty M5B Harrier, Jessie, Zaeed figured it looked like he and the old girl were going for another stroll hand in hand.

"Now look here, friend. I'm going to make this simple enough that you can understand this with a Terminus education. No one here has to wind up with a slug in their ass tonight. Mister piece of shit terrorist bleeding all over your trunk is a friend of ours that we want to introduce to a holding cell and about three hundred or so charges of murder. I don't know what you think you're doing and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. Hand him over and walk away. Don't and you'll be lucky to see whatever the fuck passes for hospital on this planet. Simple as that."

Zaeed bit back on the retort that he had already seen what passed for a hospital on this planet before. His head tilted slightly as he contemplated the full meaning of what this wanker had said. These were not Innies. The fucking Systems Alliance was here and he had only barely beaten them to the punch.

Well fuck that. He wasn't about to lose out on this many credits after he'd done all the heavy lifting. Literally, in this case. If they wanted him, they had best pony up on the reward fee.

But something about that voice reminded him of someone. He couldn't place it, but he'd heard it before.

"Well? You can't speak or what?"

This time Zaeed didn't bother with censoring himself, "I can, you fucking plonker. Just didn't think that bullshit you said merited a response unless it was to shoot at you to shut your fucking gob."

Zaeed chuckled at the ensuing silence, knowing his words had hit their mark. Good. Most people lost their edge in a fight when they lost their cool.

"Well this is fucking perfect."

Something about the way this person replied put all the pieces together. He knew who this was and he wasn't thrilled to realize it.

Of all the fucking people to run into.

* * *

 **Hafan Tower, Asakku District, New Tyne, Venezia, Qab System, Nemean Abyss Cluster; March 14, 2571 [Standardized Terran Calendar]; 0356 [Local Time, Terran Standard]**

Avery lowered his assault rifle, glaring at the man he couldn't see hiding behind the vehicle. "Massani? Never thought I'd have to see your mutilated and melanin challenged ass ever again."

The man shifted somewhere behind the sedan, snarling in reply, "Everyone is pale when you're darker than coal. Why you even fucking bother with the brain bucket at night is beyond me. It's not like they could see you."

He sighed, shaking his head lightly at Zaeed's retort. When Avery had heard of Zaeed's unfortunate injury it wasn't surprising that someone had shot him in the face. Only that it hadn't happened earlier. Still, couldn't have happened to a more well deserving person. "Seeing as how we can skip the formalities of introducing ourselves, you want to give up? Or we gonna do this the hard way?"

"I always thought you had a thing for doing it the hard way, Sergeant? Or did the UNSC finally neuter you?" Avery felt a tingle down his spine, like someone unseen was silently observing this entire satirical tableau. Recognizing Zaeed's banter for the stalling attempt that it was, Avery silently gestured to Gerigis to be on his toes. Massani was known to work alone since his split with Santiago and the Blue Suns, but you could never be sure what the cagey bastard had up his sleeve. The man was nothing if not resourceful.

Or maybe Avery was misreading this. Zaeed probably had this op prepared to get in and out before the URF militia knew anything had happened. A SpecWar strike team was probably the last thing he thought would encounter tonight. Zaeed might be stalling to figure out what his options were. And if that were the case, then Avery needed to put another option on the table before things went south. Every second wasted was another that the URFers drew closer.

Using a neural command to shut down his voice module, Avery quickly punched in a private line to their ONI handler was watching over the operation. "Rapier Actual, Rapier Six. What's the status on the URF response? We caught up with the target and the unidentified combatant. We got a bit of a standoff here."

A female voice with a slightly chinese accent responded, "Delayed. You have at best five more minutes before they figure out we're in their systems. You have an ID on the combatant? What is the status of the target?"

Nodding to get Gerigis' attention, Avery sidestepped away from the Rimu and reaching for a small drone attached to his belt. Tossing it towards the condensers in the distance, Avery remotely activated it to covertly observe and scan Massani from a distance. When the vid from the drone streamed to his HUD, Avery relayed it to the ONI handler. "No visual ID, but I'm almost positive this is Zaeed Massani. Target is in the trunk of the vehicle. We're about six meters away on the other side."

"Fuck. Hold one second." Avery snorted, agreeing with the woman's emphatic use of colorful language regarding the situation. A moment later and her voice returned, perturbed and harried. "He's off the grid. I can't find him anywhere with a basic identitag or omnitool search. What does he want? The reward money?"

Before Avery could respond the elevator bank chimed, signaling the arrival of Captain Beckett and the rest of the team. The four SpecWar troopers stormed from the opened elevator door, weapons raised and quickly surrounding Zaeed. Avery and Gerigis fanned out to either side of the sedan in unison, getting out of the line of fire with their comrades and covering Massani from all angles.

Massani calmly laid his rifle on the ground and stood. Taking his helmet off he gave them all a large toothy grin, like he was greeting old friends who were late to a round of drinks. "Well, nice of you blokes to show up. Get lost? I left a nice red trail for you follow just in case."

Captain Beckett stared him down with malice, the laser pointer of his vindicator rifle aimed at Zaeed's forehead. "Cut the shit, you one eyed freak. Step aside or be blown aside."

Chuckling at the attempt to intimidate him, Zaeed nonchalantly leaned back against the vehicle, his arms folded without a care in the world. "I'd much rather you just blow me. A cocksucker like you shouldn't be too discriminating about where your next meal of tube steak comes from."

"Your funeral." Captain Beckett shrugged, ready to execute Zaeed.

Still unfazed by the events unfolding around him, Zaeed chuckled and nodded towards the car behind him. "Wouldn't be too sure about that, cocksucker. It would be our funeral. I rigged a couple of charges with a mine in the back seat. Enough to leave a nice sized crater where we're all gathered. They might be able to fit what's left of us all inside a vial of omnigel."

Avery tilted his head slightly to get a glimpse of the back seat of the red vehicle and sure enough, there was a clearly slapped together bundle of charges centered around a single anti personnel mine. It looked like a four year old put it together, but he highly doubted that the aesthetics would have any affect on the lethality of the device.

His jovial nature becoming colder and much more sinister, Zaeed's smile was unnerving as he stared down Captain Beckett. "It's tied to my medical implant. My vitals flatline or spike and it detonates. Someone hacks it, it detonates. If you so much as fucking sneeze on it without an apology, it detonates. You getting the picture, cocksucker, or do I have to take a holo for you?"

Shit. Avery could have kicked his own ass. Massani wasn't stalling for anything. The trick up his sleeve was already in place. A deadman's trigger to bluff and threaten his way out. He wanted them to think they had the upper hand and get within range of the blast.

As the seconds ticked by in silence and the rest of the team looked on nervously, Avery began to worry. They didn't have much time left but Captain Beckett continued to glare at Massani, who maintained that infuriating grin. Breaking the stillness of the moment, Captain Beckett grounded out a barely controlled but civil reply. "We're taking Ewers. You can go."

Shaking his head at the painfully thick headed nature of the UNSC officer, Zaeed clarified the situation. "You've got nothing unless you pay me. I want that reward or we all get blown to bits." Grinning wider and chuckling in a way to tease his opponent, Zaeed continued to needle him. "Or you could waste more of your precious fucking time until the URFers show up, cocksucker. They're not going to give a flying fuck about me when they have UNSC troops operating on their planet and taking one of their war hero's hostage."

Sensing the situation was spirally out of control, Avery reengaged the comms channel with the ONI handler. "He definitely wants the credits. He's rigged some explosives and we don't have time for this shit. Do we have authorization to pay him?"

She sighed angrily on the other end of the line, clearly frustrated with how this operation had derailed into chaos. "The URF has notified their patrols. You have to get out of their now. Patch me through to him."

Avery nodded and engaged his voice module, gesturing to his own omnitool as a request to transfer the comms line. "Massani. ONI wants to have a word with you. Accept the call."

Raising his one good eyebrow, Zaeed nodded and activated his omnitool, accepting the transfer. He tapped an earpiece and began mumbling, speaking softly to the ONI handler.

Glancing at the rest of the team, Avery relayed the information about the militias. "The URFers know we're here. If we don't leave now we're going to be stuck fighting every Innie and their toothless mother on the planet."

The rest of the group nodded, accepting that adjustments and compromises needed to be made to complete the operation. Except Beckett, who glared murderously at Avery from behind the visor of his helmet.

Breaking the tense moment, the ONI handler's voice relayed over all comms to inform them of the new reality. "Massani is going to help you escort Ewers to the spaceport. You will proceed from there as per the regularly planned extraction. Time is of the essence so we do not have time to complain or discuss this matter. Move out. Now."

Proud smirk still on display, Zaeed casually ignored the semicircle firing squad around him to pick up his rile and sauntered to the trunk to close it. Purposely bumping his shoulder into Gerigis as he entered the Kaira, Zaeed looked over his shoulder and chastised the group of SpecWar troopers. "You plonkers going to stand around fondling your bits or we going to get our of here before the Innie squads show up?"

Beckett lowered his weapon in disgust and silently motioned the group towards the Rimu, glaring at Zaeed's back. Turning his hateful stare in Avery's direction he let some of his built up frustration leak out in an unnervingly calm order dripping in resentment. "You ride with Massani since you seem have everything figured out, Master Sergeant."

Avery blew out a breath, muttering under his breath about infantile tenderfoots with sensitive feelings. Jogging to the other side of the sedan he tapped the window, getting Massani's attention to unlock the door. Zaeed glanced his way bored and rolled his eyes, starting up the vehicle and unlocking the doors. Jumping into the passenger seat, Avery took off his helmet and scowled at Zaeed. "Never took you to be the type to rig a suicide bomb."

Chuckling as he pulled the vehicle out of it's parking spot and following behind the Rimu, Zaeed shrugged, "I'm not. It's my back up plan to distract the Innies if I get into a jam. It's on a standard tamper and remote detonation." His chuckles turning into full blown laughter as he steered the sedan out onto the city streets, Zaeed struggled to control his mirth. "You fucking jackasses really thought I would do that? What are they teaching the sad sacks of shit in ICT these days?"

Leaning back in his seat, Avery rolled his eyes and glimpsed the flashing lights of URFer patrol skycars above moving in the opposite direction towards the upper levels of the Hafan Tower. Figuring they were in the clear he turned his attention back on Zaeed, noticing with his own eyes how the years since Harvest had been less than kind to the man. He looked like he'd aged two or three decades in one.

Feeling Avery's eyes on him, Zaeed showed the first bit of disconcerted behavior since he'd running into him tonight. Sneering as he looked at him askance, Zaeed tried to affect a bit of bravado to cover up how unsettled he felt being in close proximity with one of the few people in the galaxy he feared. "You missed me that much that you can't stop staring like you want to suck me off, Sergeant?"

Raising his eyebrows in jocular manner, Avery needled the man by turning his words back on him. "I'm not the one that looks like he's been sucking off satan for the past ten years. You been swallowing too? Because that is the only explanation I can think of that would make a man look like death warmed over." Zaeed's nerves melted away as he barked in laughter at Avery's observations. The tension between the men evaporated and they almost settled back into the camaraderie they had as ODSTs back on Harvest. Avery's own smile waned as he remembered Zaeed and Vido's less than stellar departure from service. "And stop calling me Sergeant. You never gave a shit about the life."

Rather than be offended by his rebuke, Zaeed nodded in concurrence. "Too right. Got sick and fucking tired of being sent into certain death for the pride of fuckwads on Arcturus. If they didn't give a shit about us then why should I?"

"Maybe you should have given a shit about your brothers and sisters fighting and dying planetside!" Avery barked out in reply, almost losing his cool at how casually Massani continued to dismiss his horrendous behavior years later. Breathing deeply to calm himself and gather his thoughts, Avery resumed the conversation and said things left unsaid for the better part of a decade. "No one blames you for having a gripe with Arcturus for their game plan with Harvest. Everyone thought they didn't know what the fuck they were doing, but they didn't use it as an excuse to loot corpses. That was some low shit and you're lucky I didn't find out about it until after you two left service. I would have done a lot more than put a single slug in your ugly mug. Still thinking about it."

As the lights of the early morning city cast warring shadows over them in the vehicle, Zaeed snorted dismissively at Avery's threat and countered with his own deeply held thoughts. "That was always the problem with you, Johnson. Smart enough to recognize the bullshit but too much of a cock sucking toady to do anything about it." Glancing again at the man with a cold glare he continued, "I caught the byplay between you and that other N-Sucker. So they put some kid that's yet to have his balls drop in charge and you're stuck taking orders again. Nothing changes. You're still just a dancing pyjack jumping for your master."

Seething at Zaeed's words, Avery bitterly retorted, " It might look that way to you, cyclops. You don't have the honor or integrity a vorcha has in his dick. You'd sell you out your own mother for a couple of credits to pay for warm beer. That's why you couldn't hack it in the UNSC. Why your own buddy put a slug in you. You're a bastard with no friends because you stand for nothing but where the credits are coming from."

The two men rode the rest of the way to the New Tyne spaceport in a stewing and contemplative silence.

Zaeed guided the sedan towards a sparking spot next to a private hangar. The rest of the strike team hopped out the Rimu, weapons drawn and eyes scanning their surroundings for potential threats. Captain Beckett stomped his way towards Zaeed and Avery as they exited their vehicle. Upon reaching them he glanced disdainfully at Avery for speaking to Zaeed gruffly. "Payment should be clearing your account in Illium in the next ten minutes."

Staring down the SpecWar officer coolly and tapping a nervous rhythm on the trigger guard of his rifle, Zaeed was blunt in his reply "Well I guess that means you get Ewers in ten minutes plus whatever time it takes to notify me of the deposit." Adopting more of his joking bravado, Zaeed tilted his head to look past Captain Beckett and addressed the rest of the SpecWar team. "Any of you plonkers got a deck of cards? We're gonna be here a while."

Johnson stifled a sigh as the captain fumed at the merc's contempt of his authority. This kid had a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with people in the Terminus. Most of them had no respect or fear of the UNSC unless the demands were backed up with an entire battle group. And even then you might still get some sass and outright disrespect.

Clearing his throat to get their attention he tried to steer this conversation towards safer territory before these two started a shootout. "What's the ETA on the shuttle, sir?"

"Fifteen minutes." It was an obvious struggle for the answer to pass through the captain's clenched jaw.

Leaning against the vehicle casually and settling in for the wait, Zaeed released a breathy chuckle in the face of the captain. "Looks like everything's going to work out just right then." Zaeed didn't seem to care when Captain Beckett didn't stop staring at him with such palpable hate. "I remember what it was to be like you. All that first feet into hell bollocks left me frustrated too. You might want to get that checked out while you're here. Plenty of Innie girls that would want a taste of the forbidden fruit without any pay. Just think about it. Nice tight young Innie snatch that you never have to tell the slag you call a wife back home about. Of course she's off fucking your best mate or some former boyfriend while you're risking everything out here for humanity. Might as well get your rocks off. Just be sure to be the first one to the pistol when you're through. You want to have your brains fucked out, not blown out."

The captain's face contorted into equal parts of outrage and loathing at Zaeed's graphic advice before settling into dismissal as he walked away. Of course Zaeed couldn't resist getting in one more remark at his back. "Probably for the best. You look like the type that wants to cuddle afterwards while the woman laying next to you only wants to forget that she was the god forsaken unlucky cunt to bed you."

Staring in disbelief at the man, Avery was once again struck by the sheer luck that all this man had suffered was a slug to the face. "Do you not have enough people that want to kill you that you have to go adding more to the list?"

Zaeed shrugged, unfazed by the abstract thought of others wishing death upon him. "I dunno. Depends. We counting the pissed off spouses and lovers of women I've fucked?"

"I'm betting a turian can count those people on one hand." Avery shook his head and pulled out his unfinished cigar, lighting it with a flick of the antique lighter he'd bought on Mars after his first tour on Harvest.

Zaeed eyed the cigar hungrily, licking his lips before asking "You got another one of those, Johnson?"

Taking a pull and looking at the man queerly, Avery blew the smoke out and feigned ignorance. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

Shrugging with a grin that looked more twisted and evil than friendly, Zaeed replied "Part of my payment."

Avery almost choked from laughter as he inhaled. Blowing the aborted inhalation out, he eyed Zaeed incredulously, "How the fuck do you figure? We not paying your albino ass enough credits?"

His grin becoming even more grotesque, Zaeed gestured towards the vehicle behind him with a nod. "ONI paid for the capture and delivery of Ewers. You're paying for the lift. I'm not a fucking auto taxi."

"Most taxi VIs have a more pleasant disposition." With an annoyed but resigned sigh, Avery fished into a pouch on his belt and produced a single cigar in it's airtight tubing. He owed the man that much for saving his life on Harvest. Flinging it at Zaeed with a bit more force than was necessary, he chided the man halfheartedly. "You need me to cut and light it for you too? Or can you handle that?"

Zaeed didn't bother with a reply. He popped open the tubing and slapped the container to remove the cigar. Before Avery could react the mini fabrication unit on Zaeed's left gauntlet activated, creating a vibrant and glowing orange omniblade. The incandescence of the brightly burning blade caught all the ODSTs unaware, but they showed the trained reactions that made them one of the galaxy's notoriously dangerous military forces. In a split second Zaeed found himself the target of six mass accelerator rifles for the second time in less than an hour.

Not flustered a bit, Zaeed held the blade aloft and use the razor sharp and hot end to slice off the tip of the cigar. He deftly spun the cigar in his right hand to place the cut end in the grip of his teeth. The gritty merc brought the nearly molten blade near his face and used the searing heat to light his procured cigar. Sucking back a few initial puffs, Zaeed blew out the sweet smoke across the blade. Taking a moment to admire the almost artistic beauty of the trails of smoke as they were guided along swirling paths by the intensity of the blade's heat, Zaeed finally dismissed the blade as the minifabrication unit broke down the silicon carbide blade into base components for storage. Taking a large drag, Zaeed finally addressed the tense troopers and their weapons with clicks of his tongue and more of his wit. "Twitchy little troopers. Act like you've never seen an omniblade before."

The troopers lowered their weapons slowly, more than fed up with the mercenary's actions by now. Except Avery. Long ago he'd come to expect a cavalier attitude towards antagonizing others as just being part of the package when dealing with Zaeed Massani.

The two grizzled veterans enjoyed the familiar companionship and vice of cigar smoke in silence while admiring the inky blackness and tapestry of twinkling stars of the Venezian night sky as it gave way to a bright pink early morning on the horizon. Still their well experienced awareness left their eyes to quickly dart about every other second as they swept their surroundings for threats.

"You still with that same bird you married?" Avery looked at Zaeed in both confusion and shock. From what he remembered, Massani wasn't one for small talk, much less about personal lives. He'd almost be touched that the bastard remembered such a detail if he didn't know any better. "She was a right sexy piece of ass. Bit out of your league if I'm being perfectly honest. You're one gruesome fucker with that fuzzy black caterpillar growing on your upper lip."

Avery snorted and shook his head. Now there was the bastard he was expecting. Still, his words hit a sensitive spot that caused Avery to cast his eyes at the ground and sigh, "No. We got divorced a while back."

Zaeed nodded as if he had expected that outcome when he asked. Holding the cigar loosely he inquired more into the topic. "So what? She got tired of your bootlicker ways too?"

Unwilling to let the Massani know how close he was to the truth, Avery opted for a more broad truth and a bit of deflection. "SpecWar ain't the place for a happy ending. Marriage ran it's course."

Flicking away ashes Zaeed offered his own bits of wisdom on the matter. "Your own fault for marrying her. Wasn't ever going to be a happy ending that way. Should have just blown your load in her a few times and moved on. You tried to make it out to be more than it was."

It had been years since he and Jilan were together, but Avery still felt that primal tug at hearing someone talk about her in such a disrespectful way. Glancing at the merc beside him he corrected the man's assumptions on his love life. "That might be what you do with the broads you pay for play, but those of us in the human race are capable of feeling something other than lust for another person. We manage to do it without having to pay a single credit, too."

Rolling his eyes at the thought of love, Zaeed glanced at Johnson with a frown. "You know damn well that business doesn't mean shit in the real world. Some bitch might tell me she loves me when we're face to face smashing our bits together but I know that's just the hormones, alcohol, and credits talking. Heat of the moment doesn't last a lifetime."

In the distance the tiny flashing red and green lights of an approaching shuttle signaled the end of this operation. Avery took one last pull and rubbed his cigar out on the roof of Zaeed's sedan. Stowing the cigar, he stared at the merc and his irritation from before evaporated. It might be easy to get riled up at Massani's words, but they were the sign of a troubled soul wishing to share his misery with others. Avery Johnson might not be a tender or sentimental man, but he knew the importance of keeping your humanity in this profession. You needed those bonds and emotions to prevent you from going over the edge. That was something Zaeed never heeded. Or maybe it was something the poor dumb bastard never knew from the start.

Avery decided to part with a bit of his own wisdom, echoing his thoughts earlier in the sedan. "I may have been a sucker to think it would have worked, but at least I took a chance at something that could have mattered. I have those memories and that will last me a lifetime. Same reason I do my job with pride and honor. And what is your ignorant ass doing? Chasing after credits to get your next heat of the moment? That's the shit that doesn't mean anything in the real world, Massani. And why you don't mean a damn thing. You're no better than the whores you pay. Worse, even. At least they admit they're willing to get fucked for credits."

Once more the two men stood in silence, this time locked in a contest of wills as they glared at one another. Zaeed was the first to look away as his omnitool pinged. He checked the message and grinned. "Looks like you plonkers have your war criminal."

The battered old salarian shuttle landed at the nearby parking pad, it's magnetic contragrav system kicking in as it hovered half a meter off the ground and the strike team members swung into action. They quickly removed Ewers and carried him the waiting shuttle. Gerigis and another grabbed several bags of additional weapons and ordnance they never needed to use from the Rimu. Captain Beckett, however, made his way towards Avery and Zaeed with his face in a stoic mask to contain his rage.

"Pleasure to meet you and do business, squirt." Zaeed gave a jaunty salute towards the Captain who stared at him in silence before looking over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the team was outside of earshot.

When he was certain the three of them were alone, he turned to Avery and unleashed a whispered warning that contained as much heat as the thrusters of the idling shuttle nearby. "You ever undermine my authority on an operation again and I will personally take immense pleasure in killing you, Master Sergeant. Are we clear?" When Avery didn't respond immediately the irate officer raised his voice a bit higher, "Are we clear?"

At Avery's curt nod and barely controlled rage Captain Beckett spared one last glance at Zaeed. "I ever see you again and I'm killing you too."

Showcasing the lack of respect for the man he'd shown all night, the merc grinned and shrugged, "Get in line when you're finished throwing your tantrum. Bring your wife while you're at it so I can show her what a real man is like." Captain Beckett reached for his side arm but Zaeed was quicker, brandishing his activated predator pistol in between the officer's eyes. "Don't even think about it, you jackass. Now get your fancy little ass aboard that shuttle before I give you a demonstration of how I wound up with this sexy scar on my face."

Beckett snarled and stomped away, humiliated one last time by Massani.

Not trusting the irate officer, Zaeed never lowered the pistol and glanced towards Avery before gesturing that he join his comrades aboard the shuttle. "Well. Go on, Johnson. You already rolled over and played dead for him. Your master wants you to get in the shuttle like the good and loyal little mutt you are. He might even let you hump his leg. That memory should last you a lifetime too."

In the early morning glow Avery stared at Zaeed with disdain and then trudged his way towards the shuttle and his ride back home. He knew there was a slew of things for him to think about for this trip. Some of them more pressing than others, but it was all certainly food for thought.

Although three things were very clear. He was getting too old for this shit. Zaeed Massani would always be an unrepentant asshole. And he hated Innie planets. Especially the smell.

* * *

 **New Tyne Spaceport, Mul'An District, New Tyne, Venezia, Qab System, Nemean Abyss Cluster; March 14, 2571 [Standardized Terran Calendar]; 0439 [Local Time, Terran Standard]**

Zaeed watched the shuttle take off into the pink horizon before ascending rapidly into the heavens above. Once they were out of sight he took a tremendous breath of relief, leaning his head back on the roof of the sedan.

That had been one hell of a dangerous game he played here tonight. At any point those ODSTs could have called his bluff or decided that Ewers was better off dead. And then the drama of seeing Sergeant Avery Johnson again. Zaeed rubbed the stubble across his chin with an unsteady hand. Holding the hand aloft he could see how his nerves over the situation caused himself to tremble. Or maybe it was just withdrawal from not having had a drink in several hours.

The thought of a beer for breakfast comforted him. Maybe a nice blowjob to set the morning right so he could get some untroubled sleep.

Hopping into his vehicle and riding back into New Tyne proper Zaeed was consumed with Johnson's words. He didn't believe a single one of them, but they haunted him. He had no delusions of his own nobility. Didn't really give a fuck what anyone thought of him. But the good old Sergeant had cut to the heart of the matter with his blunt and precise way just like he always would. He actually admired that about the man. Always had. The way he could size up a situation and call it like it is. It was a rarer gift than most people realized.

But now that he was on the receiving end he just wanted to shoot the fucking bastard. Filling his head with ideas about things that mattered and love and all that other bullshit. But for the first time in a long while Zaeed actually contemplated the future and what mattered to him.

And not in some abstract way, or even some simplistic what am I doing tomorrow kind of way. But actually consider what he was going to do when he got too old to do this? Could he retire? What did that even mean to him?

Then thoughts of Vido entered his mind and he wondered if he could ever rest knowing that bastard still drew breath. That definitely mattered to him.

Maybe that was part of this grand idea forming in his head? Save up a ton of credits, take out Vido, and retire to someplace warm. Maybe knock up a couple of local birds.

Well, it was a nice idea, but he doubted he'd be able to live up to the promise.

He ditched the car in a rundown neighborhood and walked towards a bar he knew in the area. The kind of place that catered to people like him that enjoyed the true breakfast of champions.

The place was as shitty as he remembered it. If it had been a few hour earlier he'd have to seriously question the possibility of being involved in a fight of some kind, but the early morning hour had thinned out the patrons. All that remained were the early rising alcoholics like himself and party revelers nursing drinks as they refused to let the night end.

Zaeed sat down at the bar, still in his blood tinged armor and carrying his weapons. It didn't matter. In this shithole he fit in more than he stood out.

Ordering a beer from the bartender, Zaeed took his time to examine the other patrons. There was nothing special to catch his eyes except a group of birds that looked like this was their final stop for the night.

They were nothing you'd take a holo with. In fact one of them had a face like an elcor but had tits easily the same size as her head. In a pinch like right now these cunts would do nicely. If he was lucky he might even convince one of the dumb broads to let him stay a few days at her place while he laid low.

Zaeed stared into his beer and wondered about the promise he'd made himself just earlier.

But it was easier to live in the moment. He'd try working towards his future tomorrow. It wasn't like he was going to change his ways of being an unrepentant asshole overnight anyways.


End file.
